This week I'm posting yet another random one-shot. Set before Gaara got talk-no-jutsu-ed into being nice. I don't own Naruto-verse.

My Broken Brother

A selfish monster that only loves himself. Gaara. My youngest brother. At one point, I genuinely loved him; now, I wished him dead.

When my mother died giving birth to him, I couldn't blame him. The Shukaku had taken her away, not the new baby. Even when he was a little older and his sand attacked me, I blamed the Shukaku. Gaara was a child. He didn't know what he was doing. Then he hurt our father with the intent of killing him, but I figured it was okay. Father was training him too hard. It was natural for Gaara to snap. Plus, Father was the kazekage. He was powerful, his injuries minor. There was no way a kid could kill him. Gaara had only attacked on a whim.

He then started attacking on a whim very often. Both civilians and shinobi were getting seriously hurt, even killed. I liked to pretend it was not happening. It was not even his entire fault when it came down to it. Gaara attacked only those who called him a monster. If someone, anyone, would only try to befriend him, then maybe he'd change for the best.

I suppose I should've been the one to step up to the role. Part of me wanted to, it really did, but Father didn't like to see Kankuro or me with Gaara, and, to be honest, I didn't fight it much because like everyone else I was also scared of Gaara. By the time I was ready to do what I knew I had to do, it was too late. Uncle Yashamaru killed himself and tried to kill my brother too.

Then everything changed. The innocence Gaara once held was gone. Everything was so wrong. Before that night, I could stand in the same room as the redhead without fearing for my life, and now breathing the same air as him was a cause for nightmares. If I could only reach him, maybe his heart and mind could still be mended, but one look at his pale eyes and I knew that he was a lost cause. My little brother loathed the world and me with it.

I would always love him anyway, I thought. It didn't matter to me that he was a monster. I had not stopped him from becoming the way he now was, so partly, it was my fault too. More importantly, ever since mom died, it became my job to love my brothers like she would've done. So that they wouldn't miss her so much. Because neither one of them would remember her. Because my father's heart turned cold the day she left us and I didn't want Kankuro or Gaara to become like him. I vowed I would love my two little brothers and look after them to the best of my abilities.

But at the end of the day, however, Kankuro was the more important brother. He was my brother in blood, name, and action. We fought together and laughed together, and when we needed each other we were always there. Gaara was deranged. So gone. So broken. If we ever did so much as approach him, he would lash out, as if afraid we would shatter him. He died with Uncle Yashamaru and his body was left for the Shukaku to wear as a costume. Then the afternoon he almost killed Kankuro, it felt as if Suna's monster had attacked my own child. I could forgive my father when he ordered Gaara's death because I knew Gaara was dangerous. I understood, whether I liked it or not. But for Gaara to hurt Kankuro? Had that monster been weaker and I braver, I would've strangled him with my own two hands.

Instead, I grew to fear him, to wish he would leave us alone. Regretting my broken vow to be a comforting figure to him. Envying the sand he called his friend and mom. Hoping one of the assassins succeeds in killing him because only then my home would be safer than A-rank missions. I couldn't hate the kid. Not completely. I had once loved him dearly. Most of it was not even his fault. But sadly, life would have been a lot better if little Gaara had never been born.

Thanks for reading; please review if you liked something about it!